Meeting His Match
by RhapsodyinB
Summary: John enjoys being a carefree bachelor until someone causes him to rethink his lifestyle. His version of the classic.
1. Chapter 1

(Disclaimer: All characters from Pocahontas belong to Disney. All other characters and original ideas belong to their rightful owners.) -

I

The bright light from the balcony window of Smith's flat, gleamed over his face; forcing him to awaken. He tossed and turned a bit more, before he finally sat up, rubbing open his blue eyes, pushing aside his blond locks from his face, while letting out a weary yawn and groan.

"John?" A woman was stirring next to him.

_Was it Peggy? Susan? Scarlet? Violet...? _He couldn't remember; not that it mattered. The Susan Constant was set to sail very soon...and it could not leave without him.

"You have to go. I'm leaving." He found his pocket of change on the floor and handed her a coin.

"A shilling? I rather anticipated-"

"Fine-here's another. Go, please."

"Alright, I'm leaving!" The sassy redhead hastily dressed, and gathered up all her things, but she coquettishly turned back to him at the doorway. "You know where to find me, once you return."

He waved "goodbye" politely at the doorway and closed it, sighing. He had just enough time to wash up and dress. He'll go without breakfast.

He wondered why he put himself through this every so often. It wasn't hard for him to find any women-in London, especially. But he supposed it was much easier to entertain the women who didn't expect a commitment, once in a while. Most of the time, he would simply humor women he met in town, who desired a commitment, as opposed to seriously courting them. He couldn't have them become too attached to him, especially with his demanding work as a seafarer, which required him to be absent for months at a time. Besides, none of them craved adventure as he had; let alone were willing to venture beyond their kitchens, the dress shop or their social circles. There were none that couldn't care less about decorum and simply lived for the moment. If he ever found such a woman, perhaps...but the thought of him ever settling down was always a distant one.

His thoughts were interrupted as he heard a knock at the door. He had just strapped on his weapons, and gathered his bag as he opened the door. It was his neighbor from the next floor downward: an older, portly woman with flaxen hair, with a disapproving look on her face.

"Mr. Smith!"

"I know, Mrs. Porter." He greeted her with a generous hug. "You likely won't see her around here again."

"You also said that about the last one, the one before her, the..." he didn't need reminding. "Now, Johnny, is it not high time-"

"Mrs. Porter, I'm terribly sorry, but I must be leaving. The Virginia Company leaves this morning."

"Why, have you had breakfast?"

"I haven't got the time now." At this point, he locked his flat and was walking down the stairs with Mrs. Porter.

"Hogwash. They never feed you well on these journeys." She ran into her flat, and handed him a glass of milk-which he drank, black pudding, and some muffins. "I baked them this morning."

"Thank you Mrs. Porter. I'm not certain what I'd do without you." He kissed her on the cheek, which flattered her, and went on his way.

—

Fortunately, the dock was only a few blocks from his flat. He ate while he walked. There were already crowds of people heading toward the dock, seeing off the other settlers. A few young women approached him on his way.

"Captain Smith is off to sea again. How long will you be gone this time?" A brunette asked.

"Are you even planning to return this time?" Asked a blonde.

"When will you cease these foolish voyages and finally... ?" A redhead chimed in.

He teasingly gave them the same answer. "I wish I had answers for you lovely ladies, but unfortunately, I couldn't tell you. You'll have to find out when I return." He never knew how long his voyages would last-that was half the excitement, after all. And such voyages allowed him to be footloose and fancy free on never-ending terrains, with no expectation of any woman being in his life for quite a while... .

—

_"It's Glory God and Gold and the Virginia Company." _

Once he approached the dock, he strolled nonchalantly through, as if he weren't rushing after all. The Governor hadn't arrived yet, which was a good sign he still made it just in time. There was no need to sign in; they all knew him already. Other men were saying their goodbyes, stocking the ship, and preparing to hoist the cannons. He saw a couple familiar faces on the ship, belonging to a dark haired man and a redhead, two of his longtime friends, Ben and Lon.

"Are you coming on this voyage, too?" Lon asked him.

"Course he is... .You can't fight Indians without John Smith."

"That's right." He grabbed hold of a cannon, which lifted him onto the ship. "I'm not about to let you boys have all the fun."

Ah, the Indians. Such was his legacy, hence him becoming the captain. But he wasn't too excited. He had done that all before. Now on deck, he walked toward the steering wheel, and watched the peaceful serenity of the River Thames one last time.

—

"Reef the topsails! Steady on your course!" The captain shouted.

Much of the voyage was smooth sailing, until they faced a storm which threw a young soldier overboard. Thinking fast, he tied a rope around his waist, knowing life was all about risks; and this was the biggest one yet, as he dove in after him. He was fortunate a group of men pulled them back on deck.

The Governor encouraged the men with a supposedly great speech about having high expectations for this new world, which seemed to excite all the men, except him.

"What do you suppose the new world will look like?" The young soldier, named Thomas, asked him later.

"Like all the others...I've seen hundreds of new worlds... . What could possibly be different about this one?" He wasn't expecting anything. Every "new" world looked the same, had similar issues, similar people. He signed up for this anticipating life as it was. _That wasn't fair to say_, he began to ponder. _He hasn't travelled before; why ruin it for him? Besides, what if I'm actually pleasantly surprised? Perhaps a place more interesting than London, or anywhere else I've been...perhaps not._ He quickly dismissed that idea.

—

"John, what are you doing up there?" Thomas asked.

"Getting a better look."

After they had reached the new land, he noticed all the unusual sounds and scenery. This place was not like any place he had been before. He had made his way up a strong sturdy tree. Once he reached the top, he looked as far as he could see. _Miles of unchartered territory, just waiting to be explored._

Something knocked into him. Expecting danger, he found a striped, furry animal at his feet. _Perhaps he'll like the hard tackle I detest so much._ It worked. The animal was looking back at some bushes. _What could be hiding back there?_ It turned out to be a rather obnoxious pest. As much as he wanted to stay up there, he had to go back down. Back to his business with the Indians. He wondered how close they were while the Governor suggested he seek them out.

"If there are any Indians out there, I'll find them," he assured them all.

—

_But first-time to explore... . _He was impressed with all this new terrain, as he shouted up mountaintops, coasted down waterfalls, and examined every valley in between. Speaking of waterfalls, he was rather thirsty. It would also be nice to cool off a little, and refresh himself. So far, all was quiet-perhaps too quiet. He couldn't help but have this uneasy feeling that he was being watched, even if he couldn't see anything. Nevertheless, he had taken his mind off the Indians...for now.

The cool water refreshed his parched tongue and rehydrated his body; all the dirt and sweat he accumulated from the journey washed off his skin into the water. Never had he seen water so clean before-not even on his farm in Willoughby. Feeling cleansed and relieved once more, he cupped his hands a few more times to drink, and washed his face.

It was then he noticed a strange silhouette reflecting in the water, cupped between his hands. Warily, he resumed as if nothing happened, and peered behind him as he dried his face. Nothing. But surely something was there. Playing it safe, he thought it best to hide behind the waterfall. Perhaps his follower would go looking for him. He was right: Someone was jumping onto the rocks as he readied his musket. He wondered if the musket would still be lit after jumping through the water. Perhaps it would if he moved quickly, and shielded the flame under his helmet.

Pacing himself, he counted. _One...two...three: Aim and..._

But he couldn't pull the trigger. The mist was thick, but he had successfully aimed through thicker before. Was he seeing correctly? A young Indian...woman? Surely he wasn't delusional. No, after the mist cleared there was no mistaking it now: Her long mane of ebony hair blowed in the wind, un-shielding her perfectly sculpted copper-skinned face. Her deep dark eyes revealed boldness, while her pursed lips quivered with a growing sense of fear.

His heart must have stopped beating for a few seconds, as he sat there, at a loss of what he was seeing and what to do next. What exactly was he going to do? Hopefully not scare her off anymore than he probably had. He almost wondered if what was in front of him was merely an illusion. It was a tease, really, seeing her stand there, barefoot, with just enough of clothing to hug her silhouette, when it had been four months since he last saw any woman at all. She certainly didn't resemble a typical English woman; but she had a rare natural beauty about her, tall and shapely. As he put his musket down, and steadily waded through the water toward her, he thought she flinched. Now, directly below her, he uncovered his helmet, deciding to introduce himself. But she ran from him.

"No! Wait! Please!"

_Fool_. He cursed at himself for scaring her off as he grabbed his musket and ran after her. _Don't lose her._ He could barely, see a fleeting figure weaving through the brush of trees. Various thoughts raced through his mind all at once: _Who was she? Why did she follow me-alone even? And for how long? Why bother keeping pace with her at all? _While he didn't know the answers, he suspected if he didn't try to find out now, he may never know.

"Please! Don't run off."

She had made it to a riverbank, heading straight for a canoe. He'd never catch up to her if she began paddling away. Finally, he caught her off guard and slowed her down. He placed his musket against a nearby tree. He approach slowly, assuring her she was safe. She spoke in a strange language. It occurred to him if he couldn't understand her, she couldn't understand him, either. At least he was close enough that she couldn't run away. At this point, she wasn't even trying anymore.

He held his arm out again, patiently. Perhaps he could show her he came peacefully. He waited a few moments, and finally, she took his hand. When he pulled her out of the canoe, and she was nearly eye level with him, his thoughts from before the journey revisited him. He began to suspect things would actually be quite different with this new world.

—

"You have the most unusual names here...Pocahontas."

"You have the most unusual name too, John Smith."

After some difficulty, they were finally able to introduce themselves. As unusual as her name sounded at first, it flowed with her free-spirited demeanor; he'd never forget it. He couldn't imagine, however, how she could find a name as simple as his, as unusual.

He discovered her curiosity of this pale, fair haired, sea blue-eyed man caused her to follow him, ever since he first arrived. They spent time learning names for different things, in their own respective languages. She seemed quite fascinated with his gun, sword, as well as his helmet, even trying them on for size, which amused him. Most women would be afraid or even disgusted to touch such things.

He placed his hands against hers, which felt warm and soft, against his gruff ones. He was almost ashamed of how sweaty they were; but he supposed if she minded that at all, she wouldn't have taken his hand in the first place. However he decided he wasn't ashamed of not performing his duties, while knowing full well he was expected to execute even this woman. After all, she was not the same kind...but at the same time, she was... . _How could that make any sense?! She was one of them._ He wondered why he was so drawn to someone from a culture so different from his own?

—

"Savages?!"

"Uh, not that you're a savage."

"Just my people."

"No...let me explain."

"Let go!" As she tried paddling away.

"No, I'm not letting you leave."

_Good, she's cornered...what-how did she get up there?! Well, two can play that game._ After everything was going so well...he foolishly said that word, when describing the difference between his people and hers. And now he was trying to apologize, and climb a tree after her? As looney as it appeared, that was exactly what was happening. He wasn't sure if his comrades would believe this attempt at courting. Never had he had to go this far, literally, and figuratively, for anyone he pursued, or that pursued him. _Why am I even trying?_ She definitely wasn't like the others. He secretly admired her spunk. She actually climbed trees?! No women he knew would even try, let alone succeed. And unfortunately for him, she was succeeding better than he was, after he took a long, hard fall to the ground.

"What you means is...not like you."

Her level of understanding and her way of outsmarting him (which never happened before), blew him away. He would not have guessed she was only in her late teens, as she had the poise, and the appearance of a woman in her early to mid-twenties. Fortunately for him, she was willing to forgive him, not that he deserved it. He was beginning to think she was smarter and far too good for him. But despite the obvious differences in their appearances and how they lived, they still shared the same adventurous side, spontaneity...and even stubbornness.

She took him by the hand, with a playful look that dared him to follow her. At one point, they tumbled through a sunflower field. As he landed on his back, she landed on top of him. They nearly kissed, they were so close. He wouldn't admit to his thoughts which he knew were not honorable...but he wondered if she thought the same...? He could only gage how she smiled and looked at him while speaking, though admittedly, he couldn't recall what she had said... .

"Watch me."

They were now at the edge of a cliff, overlooking the river. She took a running start and made an effortless dive into the waters below.

"Your turn."

He chuckled a bit, vaguely remembering Ben calling out to him as he dove into the frigid waters during the storm:

"Are you crazy?!"

_ I'm not the only one who is_, he thought, grinning. He made the same great plunge, causing a bigger splash as he reached the water, which made her laugh. Then they swam all the way to the bottom before swimming back up.

Next he knew, they were cascading down and climbing mountains, running through the woods, tumbling down hilltops, and so on. She would make three quick steps, which he made up with one or two longer strides. He was keeping pace with her, instead of the other way around: he enjoyed the change of someone else also enjoying what he did (who wasn't another one of his men), and how they both seemingly challenged each other with each maneuver along the way. They eventually found themselves facing each other. As she placed her hands in his, he was beginning to sense their feelings were mutual. He drew her close... .

"I have to go."

Before he could even kiss her, the sudden sound of beating drums put fear in her eyes. And with that, she was gone. He had women walk in and out of his life before; but this time, he was left wanting, and emptier than ever before. He had to find her again.


	2. Chapter 2

II

"What are you doing here?" Her eyes lit up in surprise.

"I had to see you again."

It took him a few days to sneak away from camp, but he finally found her in a cornfield outside her village-not much further from the riverbank she fled to. He could see she was secretly appreciative he came back, as opposed to forgetting her. _How could I? _As much he tried to rationalize his thinking of their differing cultures, she stayed on his mind.

"Pocahontas, Pocahontas?" A man was calling for her.

Based on how her eyes lit up, it wasn't someone she wanted to see-let alone for him to see. She said something to a friend in her language. Perhaps where she was going?

"Quick, this way." She led him away before he could see the man behind that voice... .

Before he could ask, she challenged him to race her. They made it to a clearing before they stopped to catch their breath around a tree. He looked at her and chuckled.

"What is it?"

"Oh, nothing-simply that you're nothing like the women I've met before."

"You mean in your village-London?"

"Well everywhere, especially London."

She became curious. "What are London women like?"

He thought for a moment."Well, they're all quite different. Some shy, some less so; a few that are nice; while others are not so nice, pretty or plain...but none are like you."

"What do you mean?"

"English women are hardly adventurous. They like being at home, talking amongst each other about other men, women, and the gossip around town. They rarely go out unless going to the store, or to a friend's home."

"What do they look like?"

"Well, they're fair in complexion, typically shorter, sometimes plump or thin, but not curvy. They like to wear several layers of clothing and far too much powder and makeup, to try to look prettier, I suppose."

"What kind of clothing?"

He became a little nervous. _Why is she asking me this?!_ "Well, to begin with, they wear undergarments, such as garters and corsets... ." She used leaves, branches and twigs to dress herself based on his descriptions, and tied up her hair. After speculating for a moment, he took all the branches, leaves, and twigs off, and undid her hair. "No, this is you."

She smiled. "London women must be rather complicated."

"You haven't the faintest idea."

He hoped she wouldn't ask him how he knew these things... .Nor did he want to mention most English women would consider her underdressed, although he found their multiple layers unnecessary. He rather liked her simplicity, and appreciated her natural aura.

He looked around some more in awe. He found her world more fascinating the more he saw. _Would she even like London?_ He wondered.

She interrupted his thoughts. "Follow me. There's a place I like to go to reflect, which I find rather peaceful, not far from here." He couldn't imagine where, but he liked the idea of a secret place. "There's also someone I'd like you to meet."

She took him to a large willow tree. It became their favorite meeting place, as they would come back and talk; away from the fears of each of their people. They, being so similar, couldn't help but be reminded they were from two different worlds. Her people disliked the newcomers. His people would leave if they didn't find the riches they were seeking. Despite their worlds threatening to tear them apart, they wanted it to work.

"Will you go home?"

"Well...not like I have much of a home...I never really belonged anywhere."

"You can belong here."

Before he could respond, he sensed the tree moving.

"Hello, John Smith."

_How did it-she talks...? This is too strange._ He began to really wonder about the woman he was getting involved with, as this tree seemed to have a spirit of it's own-and a name "Grandmother Willow," as Pocahontas called her. _Her grandmother is a tree? Never-mind-I don't need to know. My comrades would never believe this, anyway. _At least she liked him.

He could feel Pocahontas resting against his shoulder. He suspected if she was proud enough to introduce him to someone (or something?) she highly respected, she really wanted him to remain a part of her life. _Good-she's honest and actually means what she says-unlike others who leave you guessing. _

"Smith!"

After it was discovered some of his comrades were looking for him, he remembered his responsibility. He better go back before the men complained.

"When will I see you again?"

He would have kissed her then, knowing this time, she was willing and wasn't afraid of the risk they were taking in seeing each other. He stroked her hair, while looking directly in her eyes, and made her a promise to meet again at a certain time. He was a man of his word.

—

It was more difficult to sneak away thus time, as the men were becoming wary of his whereabouts. He was certain no one saw him sneak away while all the men gathered around the fire.

She was worried this time-concerned her people and his people would not get along, trying to convince him to speak to her father. He had wondered about this man, only hearing his voice, and seeing his shadow leave in the cornfield. He could tell he was a man of authority, but he wondered if he would be as open and welcoming as his daughter?

"Only when the fighting stops can you be together," Grandmother Willow told them.

After he finally agreed, she tightly embraced him. _Well, that certainly made her day_, as he wrapped his arms around her. Feeling her warm embrace made him desire to become more intimate with her. He wondered if she thought the same? In the midst of their passion, they exchanged a kiss, that was unlike any he had before. He wished their embrace would last forever.

"Ayeyeyeyeyeyow!"

_Who...? Well, that was short lived._ Before he could think, an Indian warrior suddenly attacked him, pushing her out of the way, and trying to kill him. _What's this all about? He's obviously the jealous type._ He didn't know who he was or how he knew he was there, but he did not want this to be his end.

Suddenly, a shot fired. Someone came crashing backwards into the water. It was not him, nor was it him who fired the shot. The young soldier stood bewildered until the captain commanded him to leave. Within a short instant the captain was captured by a group of warriors.

—

"Your weapons are strong, but our anger towards you is stronger."

This wasn't exactly the kind of meeting with the chief that he had in mind. He figured, however, he would soon face the same fate as that warrior, as another warrior nearly pierced his neck open with an arrowhead. While he couldn't understand their words, one word that kept coming up, between now, and the attack, was "Kocoum."

_Was that a name? _He wondered, as he was dragged and tied to a pole inside a dwelling. _Who was Kocoum? That man that was looking for her? Was she already married? _

"Pocahontas!"

She rose his head to reveal her face. The only face he wished to see-which would be the last he would see.

"I'm so sorry..." She started hugging him. "I never told you about my betrothal to Kocoum."

She explained Kocoum was a warrior her father wanted her to marry, but she didn't want to. Strange how the thought didn't occur that another man would be in her life. _She was betrothed! Why should that surprise me? Of course other men would see how unique she was. Why is it always the good ones? _At least he could be relieved in knowing that warrior wasn't already her husband or someone she agreed to marry.

When she became sorrowful of the two having met, he had to stop her:

"Pocahontas, look at me...I'd rather die tomorrow than live a hundred years without knowing you," he assured her.

Her friend called her. "I can't leave you," she told him.

"You never will. No matter what happens to me, I'll always be with you forever."

And she was gone. Unable to move from his position, he kneeled there, thinking to himself the moments they shared. _At least she'll always know that I love her._ He remembered first seeing her, and all the times he had awoken with a different face. While all were certainly beautiful, none of them were memorable, or any that he cared if he ever saw again. Of all the (many) woman he kissed, it was merely flirtation or playfulness. They never had the sense of love or passion that he sensed with her. Finally, he found someone who he was willing to trade all those forgettable moments for, and he couldn't be with her. Why, when he finally found someone worth holding onto did he have to let go?

—

"Bring out the prisoner!" The chief demanded.

This was the moment he was (not) looking forward to, as he was forced up a cliff. He could see his men ready to fight down below, as his head was pressed down on a rock. He looked back to see a large club about to come down on him. He made one final prayer... .

"No!"

"Daughter, stand back!"

"I won't! I love him, father!"

_Thank God._ He couldn't understand the words she was telling her father, the chief, but having her long ebony hair drape over him, as she covered him-just knowing she was there, put him at ease. After a moment, his wrist, which were tied together, were set loose. He stood up and embraced her once more. _Thank you_, he whispered, as he kissed her hair.

But the Governor had a different plan, as he fired a musket right at the chief. In a split second he jumped in front, falling to the ground, grabbing his side.

—

"Going back is his only chance. He'll die if he stays here," the younger soldier told her. He wished Thomas didn't say that. He'd rather die here _with_ her rather than go home _without_ her.

She brought him some bark from the spiritual tree, and food for the journey, and held his hand against her face looking down at him on the cot that would soon board the ship; Her tears of anxiousness hinted her not wanting to let go. He didn't want her to.

"Come with me?" He waited for her response... .

—

The bright light from the balcony window of Smith's flat, gleamed over his face; forcing him to awaken. Excited about the events that would soon take place, he gradually sprung up and stretched out his arms with a yawn, before wrapping his arms behind his head, landing back on his pillow.

"John?" A woman was stirring next to him.

John turned to his wife, and stroked her long ebony tresses, her deep, dark eyes now wide open. "Morning, Love. Today our ship sails to Virginia. Are you ready?"

"Yes, Dear."

They shared some passionate kisses, and rolled over a free times, before getting ready. After gathering all their things, he carried all their bags. His wife was expecting their first child; most of the bags were rather heavy. Before they left the building, they said their goodbyes to Mrs. Porter.

"'Twas a pleasure having you here, Mr. And Mrs. Smith." She then whispered to John. "And 'twas high time... ."

He merely chuckled and winked as the couple walked down the stairs. He knew exactly what she meant... .


End file.
